The Christening
by Anderida
Summary: Buffy sends Spike on a wild goose chase but he wins the prize!


**The Christening**

The door of the crypt flew open and Buffy stood, framed in the doorway, a large axe in one hand. "Spike?"

"Wha'jer want?" came a gruff unwelcoming voice.

"Problems, of the large, deadly variety. Need some slaying help."

"You'd better come in, then." Spike responded curtly.

"No time. We need to move. Now!" Buffy barked the last word.

"OK, hold yer horses, let me get me coat," barely had he spoken than Spike was through the door and falling in at Buffy's side. "So, what's got yer knickers' in a twist now?"

"Willow's fault," began Buffy, "She conjured up a large kinda rock demon by mistake. Got her dimensions crossed. It's none too happy about being here and is out for blood: Willows! Said we'd take care of it."

Spike was silent for a bit. He sniffed the air as they walked, to see if he could get a scent of something different; something new. As they hunted, he watched Buffy out of the corner of his eye. She was intent on her purpose; eyes darting here and there; body slightly tensed, ready for action. He sighed to himself. He might as well not be here.

Buffy and Spike both noticed at the same time: A feral odour and a rustling noise ahead and slightly to their right. They instinctively dropped lower as they silently moved round the lines of reliquaries, every sense straining. Spike brushed Buffy's arm with his fingertips to get her attention, and when she turned her head towards him he signalled wordlessly to her to swing wide to the left, indicating that he would flank to the right. A brief nod and Buffy peeled away in the direction indicated by Spike.

Not knowing exactly what he was up against, Spike decide to move in a wide arc to ensure the creature didn't get wind of his presence, and to confirm it was alone. Then, down the side of the family tomb of some long-forgotten Sunnyhill benefactor, he saw ….. Willow?! _'What the hell was she doing there?'_ he puzzled. Continuing on in the same wide sweep, a small clearing outside the tomb came into view and there was his quarry (_'no pun intended', _he sniggered to himself). The creature could best be described as large, brown and knobbly. It looked like it had broken off from some rock outcrop, except that it had discernable limbs and what appeared to be a head, complete with two dark, liquid eyes, at the apex of its misshapen frame.

As Spike watched, he saw Buffy approach cautiously, stopping just short of the clearing. The beast could clearly see her, assuming its eyes actually functioned as such, but made on attempt to attack. Then Buffy moved round closer to his position, giving her a line of sight down the side of the tomb, and,…..waved? Incredulously, as Spike watched on, Willow waved back at her. _'What the hell?'_ Now Spike was very confused, and not at all happy. He didn't feel good about this. Was this a plan to kill him? Willow conjures up a demon they know he can't beat. _'Hey, no such beast! They haven't invented a demon I can't beat. I'm the Big Bad.'_ Chip in his head or not, demons are easy pray. And, he hadn't had a really good scrap for days now. Ok, if that's the way they want to play it, he'd give them a good show.

He moved out of sight of Willow, then pounced into the clearing, like a cross between Tigger and the Silver Surfer.

Hearing Spike's arrival, the demon repositioned its block-like feet to face him. Spike drop-kicked him, and fell to the floor with a thud. The demon stood impassively. Moving round the monolith like a blur, Spike was up on its back, before it had a chance to move, and with his arms locked round the creature's head he attempted to twist its head from its shoulders. However, try as he might he could not budge the lump of stone that was sitting impassively and immovably on the craggy formation that passed for its neck. '_Damn_!'

Jumping off, Spike circled the rock mound slowly, looking for a weak point. The demon stood stock-still making no effort to fight, or even move menacingly in Spike's direction. '_This is rum!' _Spike launched a feigned frontal assault but the creature didn't budge, much less flinch. '_This is no bloody fun!'_

Spike scanned the grassy floor of the clearing, instinctively aware that Buffy was watching his every move and had edged closer while he had been sizing up his opponent. Finding what he was looking for, Spike bent down and picked up a small twig. He broke off any twig-lets and the odd leaf to leave him with a short stick about the length and diameter of a pencil. Without pausing, he leapt into the personal space of the demon and plunged the stick into one of its eyes, which yielded with a satisfying 'plop'. Instantly the brick outhouse dissolved into nothing; no dust, no goo, nothing.

Buffy ran forward, as Spike called out, "Red, you can come out now." Willow slipped, shamefaced, from the corner of the tomb to join Buffy.

"Ok, you two. Talk!" Spike demanded.

Buffy and Willow both started to splutter at the same time, making little sense.

"Red, you first," commanded Spike.

"Well, I should really be getting, back. Not safe in a cemetery, no sir-eee, so I'd probably better go and, leave you to, well, you know, you have things to talk about and… I'll just make myself scare." Willow disappeared behind a tombstone and was gone, leaving Buffy staring at the floor and Spike staring at Buffy.

"You gonna spill the beans, or have I got to fight _you_ now?" Spike asked quietly, belying his anger which, realising that he had been duped, was building.

"Can we talk back in your crypt?"

An odd request, thought Spike, his head tilting to one side as he observed her closely; but he shrugged and replied, "If it means you'll tell me the truth."

They walked back silently to Spike's crypt, where he held the door open for Buffy to enter, then, entering himself, he closed the door firmly.

"Ok, spill!" Spike flopped onto his sofa, recently liberated from a delivery truck parked up in, what turned out to be, courtesy of Spike, an insecure part of town.

To his surprise Buffy sat next to him, leaving hardly any space between them. He felt a tad uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry," she began in a small voice.

His anger melted away at her tone, but it was replaced with sadness. He recognised the routine. She would apologise for treating him badly. He would accept her apology. And then she would hurt him again, and again. But the worst thing about this cycle was that he was powerless to stop it or extricate himself from this heartbreak, however much it hurt him. He sighed.

Buffy looked down at her hands in her lap. "I knew you wouldn't come on patrol tonight, so I asked Willow to make a monster that would keep you fighting for a while. But she's not exactly an expert of what makes a good fighting demon."

"Not following, love. Why the fake demon?"

Buffy cringed. "Well, I wanted. I mean, I thought, well that is, I."

"Hell's teeth, Buffy, What are you bloody bleating about? Spit it out, woman!"

She flinched again. _Oh god! How do I get out of this?_

As the silence in his crypt became oppressive, Spike's temper got the better of him.

"D'you know what, love? Forget it. I'm not interested. You go and play your little games, 'cos you know you can always rely on Spikey here to get you out of trouble."

Silence again, then … sobs? _Is she crying? _Spike groaned inside. His only weakness: Summers women's tears.

"Christ, Buffy, I didn't mean to make you cry." Spike looked dejected.

"Oh, Spike, I'm soooo sorry," Buffy ventured, between sobs, "this is all my fault and you don't deserve this. I didn't mean to make you mad. Oh god, I've really messed up." The tears got the better of her.

Spike reached down the side of the sofa for a box of tissues which he thrust into Buffy's lap. Taking a handful to dap her eyes and nose, she mumbled her thanks.

Spike gently put an arm round her shoulders and said quietly, "Look love, you don't have to tell me what happened if you don't want to. But it might help to share?" That brought another torrent of tears.

It took several more minutes before Buffy calmed down enough to start talking again.

"Ok, Spike. The truth. I owe you that much. Oh god, I don't know how to start." She lapsed into silence.

"How about at the beginning, pet," Spike whispered.

Taking a deep breath, Buffy began, "Well, I was chatting to Willow this afternoon and I was moaning that I probably wouldn't see you tonight. I mean, patrolling's been a bit slow recently, nothing I can't handle on my own, and you must have better things to do. So anyway, I said it was a pity we didn't have a demon problem so you'd _have_ to come out on patrol. And Willow said, 'well, if its demons you want, why don't I conjure up one?' So, I said 'OK', but it was supposed to be difficult to fight, not damned impossible. I guess Will's no demon expert, in the fighting sense, I mean." Buffy paused for breath.

Spike was looking at her curiously, with his head cocked to one side.

"I'm sorry, pet, I still don't understand. Why did you need me to go out on patrol with you? Were you gonna arrange to have my crypt turned over while I was out?"

"Don't you get it?" Buffy asked with a mixture of exasperation and embarrassment. "You silly vampire," she said coyly. "I just wanted your company, that's all. I thought if you had a demon to fight we could spend some time together, tracking it down and fighting it, then discussing the battle afterwards."

It took a few seconds for this to sink in. Spike was looking incredulously at this petite slayer who was sitting crumpled up beside him.

"You wanted _my_ company?"

"Yes," came a tiny voice.

"Bless you, love, why didn't you say?"

"I couldn't," Buffy started to cry again, silently this time, tears tumbling over her lashes and staining her cheeks. "How could I tell you that the highlight of my day is when I'm in your company? That I can't wait for the evening when I can see you again? That I look forward to every moment we're together; that I just want to be with you. How can I feel like that? I mean: you're a vampire!"

Spike winced. "Christ, love, if that's how you compliment someone, remind me not to give you cause to insult me."

"Oh," the tactlessness of her comments began to dawn on Buffy. "I didn't mean, well, I did but…. Oh god, I'm so confused!"

Spike drew her towards him, holding her close to his chest, and began to stoke her hair. "It's OK, pet, takes a lot more than a bit of name calling to upset me. After a century or so you start to get a bit thick-skinned." He smirked down at her.

Buffy looked up at him with her striking green eyes and smiled wanly. "You see, that's why I like being with you."

They sat together in silence for several minutes, she leaning against his chest, while he caressed her golden hair.

Spike broke the silence: "Look, love, anytime you want to see me you only have to say. No judgements, no ulterior motives. Just be honest. We need to be honest, you and I."

Buffy nodded her agreement.

Spike wondered whether he should ruin what was turning out to be a beautiful evening with Buffy cuddled up to him. He'd just said something about honesty so he felt obliged to wade in with his Doc Martins and offer a further opinion.

"Buffy, love."

"Mmmm."

"I know why you didn't want to come right out and tell me you enjoyed being with me. I know you still see me as a monster. I'm not blind; in fact, all my senses are exceptionally keen, even for a vampire. So I do know how you feel. More than that, I _understand_ how you feel." He stopped caressing her hair and let his hand rest softly on her shoulder.

"I can't change _what_ I am, but I can change _who_ I am. I hope you can see that I am changing. I want you in my life Buffy and if that means overcoming my demon nature, so be it. I don't know if the changes I'm making will ever be enough for you: I hope they will be, but part of me doubts it. But that won't stop me trying because without you I might as well be spending my eternity in hell."

Buffy was looking up at him in astonishment. "You always know the right thing to say."

"Yeah, must be the poet in me." He smirked.

Pushing away from Spike a little to face him, Buffy captured his face in her hands and, planting a brief, chaste kiss on his lips, whispered, "Thank you."

When she didn't remove her hands, but continued to stare into his clear, ocean-blue eyes, Spike gently moved his hands to Buffy's waist and gave the tiniest of tugs. To his surprise, and relief, she didn't resist, but moved her legs up under her so she was kneeling on the sofa. She leant forward and planted another kiss on his lips; this time pressing a little harder, a little longer.

Spike slipped his hands under her t-shirt and, with his palms flat in the middle of her back, he drew her down towards him for another kiss. Buffy ran her hands through his platinum locks as their lips met again, this time with passion and urgency. Every nerve ending in their bodies jangled and pulsed as Spike gently pushed Buffy back against the sofa cushions and stretched out above her.

Spike smiled to himself: ' 'Bout time this sofa was christened.'

fin


End file.
